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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644003">Le Mal du Pays</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarysveryown/pseuds/januarysveryown'>januarysveryown</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Benjamin (2019), Benjamin (Short Film 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Homesickness, Idiots in Love, M/M, Paris (City), Pillow &amp; Blanket Forts, a cat! - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:00:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarysveryown/pseuds/januarysveryown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"What he could see of the adjacent building and the mostly empty street below looked as dramatic and morose as a scene from a film he would make and hope people didn't laugh at, as if the city had sunk into some unbearable depression that simply would not lift. The vision made his heart soar. He felt for a moment like he was back again in his solitary flat in London, in his own space filled with his own things, and not instead in a small loft apartment in the 5th arrondissement of Paris."</p><p>Or, Benjamin wakes up homesick and attempts to cope.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benjamin Oliver/Noah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Le Mal du Pays</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this movie is so sweet and so funny and because i am also a vegetarian child of divorce it gave me so much sere t. i have only ever written literary short fiction before so congrats to simon amstell colin morgan and phénix brossard for getting me to crack let's goooooo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benjamin awoke to the faint sound of piano, and the sensation of 18 silicone-capped claws dragging across his chest. There were surely worse ways to be woken up, but there could also be better, and from what he could hear through his grogginess, best was miles away - in the living room - sleepy morning fingers dancing over familiar keys. Ridiculously, criminally, unacceptably far away. </p><p>He sat up in bed, the dark gray ball of fur sliding into his lap and the sight that greeted him left him frozen before he could move to close the gap. The curtains were pulled away from the bedroom’s large bay windows, letting in the view of a thoroughly overcast sky overflowing with gray clouds that seemed to sag under the weight of impending rain. What he could see of the adjacent building and the mostly empty street below looked as dramatic and morose as a scene from a film he would make and hope people didn't laugh at, as if the city had sunk into some unbearable depression that simply would not lift. The vision made his heart soar. He felt for a moment like he was back again in his solitary flat in London, in his own space filled with his own things, and not instead in a small loft apartment in the 5th arrondissement of Paris. </p><p>The realization set his neurochemicals back toward their resting state as a different, more peculiar sentiment began creeping through him, starting in his stomach and slowly spreading up and out - bittersweet and thick.<br/>
“This is disgusting, what is this?” he thought as the feeling intensified and raindrops began sounding against the window.<br/>
“Gross, gross. Please stoppit, now.”</p><p>He gathered the green cactus blanket that had made the trip with him up over his head and shoulders for protection, crossing the ends below his neck and completely enclosing his sleep-warmed body. Only his face was left to peek out. As he stared longingly through the wide glass, trying not to be reminded of home, delicate notes, though now a bit louder, continued to tinkle into the bedroom through the open door. With his life raft not near enough to hold on to, his thoughts were soon flooded with nostalgia, and against the walls of his chest beat strongly just how much he missed Stephen, and the sight of Noah seated at his old piano from his kitchen, the ice cream from the grocers shop down the street from his flat, and even the worn blue seats of the bus he used to take everyday, so much unlike those of the Parisian subway. Noah promised that he would get used to the feel and smell, but his senses were revealing themselves to be secretly francophobic. His film career would never withstand such a scandal. </p><p>Thinking of his lover - who was still acres, eons away- only made the sickly sensation grow. Next in the onslaught was all their shared memories in the dreary but now homey city, the strange hipster club where they'd met, their romantic and thirst-inducing frolics in the park, and above all the quiet moments his old porcelain bathtub, where he could lose his self for a bit and find it again, squirming, drowning, but relishing in Noah's open, unflinching gaze.  </p><p>"Brrrrraauhghghhhh" He let out, covering himself in cactus completely, trapping his unsuspecting pet in darkness. He didn't notice the stutter and gentle scrape of the piano bench. </p><p>“You know, it's about time we two had a chat. A chat? Get it? Anyway. Why don't we just create our own little void to hide from the homesickness, because that's what we do isn’t it? Run away from our problems. Right. Doesn't that sound good?”</p><p>He shut his eyes tight and focused on the sound of the rain, of the smell and feel of soft fur in his lap. He let out deep breaths and pretended the darkness was that of his film room on a rainy morning like this one. </p><p>“Well this is London, isn’t it?” He said to feline ears. “Ok, see? No more sad.”</p><p>“Qu'est-ce que tu fais, mon amour?” Noah interrupted from the threshold, sleepiness and fondness still coating his voice.</p><p>Benjamin quickly raised his head from his makeshift void and focused his wide blue eyes on Noah’s now smiling face. The former bitterness of his state got sweeter, and the uneasy sensation spreading in him was joined by a strong pulse left and to his center. He was sure he looked like a child, caught in the act of something mildly embarrassing if not clearly punishable. There was little evidence to suggest that he was not.    </p><p>“No?” He tried.<br/>
Noah laughed. “I asked what are you doing?” He raised a hand through his rumpled hair, his thin shirt riding up at the hem and Benjamin was struck with a sense of urgency.<br/>
“I am trying to evade homesickness, please don’t break up with me.”<br/>
"What?"<br/>
“I love you and I miss London. I didn’t think I would, but just - the sky and the smell of the subway station, you know.”<br/>
Sentences that would otherwise seem choppy and disjointed now fell more comfortably to Noah’s ears, and he considered first the weather outside and then his partner with a thoughtful look. The wheels in his mind turned as he began his process of deduction.<br/>
“Ah, so you are feeling homesick. I’m sorry.” He crossed the room and climbed onto the bed beside him. A gentle hand reached up to swipe at the dark hair cresting Benjamin’s forehead.<br/>
“You are not having any regrets are you?”<br/>
“No-No- are you?”  Benjamin stammered, turning his body quickly and nearly tumbling over.<br/>
Noah put an arm out to steady him. “No.” He said evenly. “I just want to know if there is anything I can do to help you feel better. Talk to me.” </p><p>Benjamin looked into his dark gaze for as long as he dared before a separate stomach turning sensation flushed through him. The nauseating feeling of five minutes ago had disappeared there in Noah’s eyes - there was nothing but sweetness left. If he were to vomit now his trusted cacti would be promptly covered in mushiness and butterflies.   </p><p>Without another word he freed one arm from his snug cocoon and wrapped Noah within it, muffling his surprised laughter as he pulled the blanket over the tops of both their heads. </p><p>When they’d settled, Noah persisted. “This is a very nice hideout, but you still did not answer my question. What can I do to help you not miss home so much?”</p><p> The rain continued falling outside the window in full droplets that they could hear clearly but not see, and Benjamin found that this in combination with near darkness made for a suitable place for him to bare the intimacies of his soul. He could and would continue to build his career and life here in Paris, and he had come to accept and not run away from the fact that what was present in the small space between his and Noah's bodies was more special than anything he’d ever again come across in London. </p><p>“It’ll pass, just the clouds and all, were making me feel things. You ... just keep being you, you know. But maybe we should plan a short visit soon, is that okay? We could stay with Stephen. Or maybe not.”<br/>
Noah felt through the darkness to join his arms around Benjamin’s neck and pull him close.<br/>
“Yes. Sure.”<br/>
“And you could start using a British accent, maybe. Any one of them. Just sometimes.”<br/>
Laughing, Noah consented. “I guess we can try that out. Now, come here.”</p><p> He leaned forward to close the gap that had tormented Benjamin all morning, and the sugary haze that swept through him almost seemed better for having waited. Almost. Seconds or years later, Benjamin pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against Noah’s, leaving only enough space to voice one more request.  </p><p>“Do you wanna get dumplings?”</p>
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